


Take Me To Church

by elsaofarendelle



Category: Frozen (2013), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 18:56:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7326412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsaofarendelle/pseuds/elsaofarendelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Frozen Hans is sent to the church’s capital city by his father to be committed into priesthood where he can be pushed away and the shame he’s brought to the Westergaard name forgotten. For the year it takes him to earn the privilege of wearing a collar and calling himself Father he plots an escape, but when he’s sent back to Arendelle to serve the kingdom’s people as their new priest, with an opportunity to be close to the woman he once sought to dethrone who is unaware to whom she is giving her confessions, a new plot begins to take shape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Church

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little nsfw sample chapter of the roleplay myself and my Hans partner are working on.  
> You can follow both myself and Alex on Tumblr: elsaofarendelle and ofthesouthernisles

The hour is late, long past the closure of the midnight mass when the Queen passes the threshold of the empty church and toes off her shoes before walking the long aisle to the altar – for the ground she walks is holy – she unfastens her cloak and as she kneels to light a candle she removes the tiara from her crown and bows her head in prayer. Her words are spoken in a whisper, her prayers are for her sister and her unborn child, for the people of Arendelle. 

From the pew, Hans watches her and a deep furrow shapes his expression as her prayer draws to a close she’s about to leave to make his presence known.

“You, of all creatures in creation, of all of God’s daughters, you, blessed by birth and nature, remove your cloak and your tiara, strip yourself of all pretense and present yourself, bare to the eyes of the lord.”

He only has one question that echoes in the silence between them as candles flick, a small gust of wind threatening to blow them out as if the waiver in his faith had the power to conjure such thing.

“Why?”

"Behold, I will lift up My hand to the nations And set up My standard to the peoples; And they will bring your sons in their bosom, And your daughters will be carried on their shoulders." Her gaze remains on the image of the Christ-child that adorns the wall. "Kings will be your guardians, And their princesses your nurses. They will bow down to you with their faces to the earth And lick the dust of your feet, and you will know that I am the LORD; Those who hopefully wait for Me will not be put to shame." The scripture flows off her tongue and in the silence between them echoes back. She stands and glances to him over her shoulder. "I am His servant, His child and He has chosen me to lead his people. The crown I wear is but a mortal trapping that places me above others, though I am above no one. I will not make myself an idol before my God."

He listens intently, analyzing her words and caresses the thick cover of the bible he carries around, "Romans 13:3,  
for rulers are not a cause of fear for good behavior, but for evil. Do you want to have no fear of authority? Do what is good and you will have praise from the same; Titus 3:1,  
remind them to be subject to rulers, to authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good deed; 2 Chronicles 23:20,  
He took the captains of hundreds, the nobles, the rulers of the people and all the people of the land, and brought the king down from the house of the LORD, and came through the upper gate to the king's house. And they placed the king upon the royal throne." Hans cites the verses as he approaches her, without looking at her, or at the bible, reciting them from memory, concentrated on the sound that broke the tranquility, besides his voice; the clicking of his darkened shoes against the marble floor. 

"How can you make yourself an idol of the Lord if He doesn't know what to make of you, how can you heed an order if it's unclear, how can you know what God himself doesn't seem to know? He knows not what to make of rulers, whether he loathes them or elevates them, and you, you who could defy it, you who have the chance, you don't, you humbly put your head down and listen when he hasn't been kind to you or your kin. When he took away what you loved most."

He cannot see it but there are tears pooled in her eyes as he speaks the scripture she knows so well.

Since her crowning it has held so much meaning to her; it gives purpose to her title, something deeper than the ambitions of man.

"I thought so," he says, and as if prompted, by mere luck, time or coincidence, some of the candles die, he's by now, within arms reach, measly inches away from her.

"———They lost faith," she looks at him finally, eyes glassy. "They saw a gift as a curse and they let fear crumble their foundation but I know that He chose me for a reason. He has a path for us all. Do you think you were haplessly placed in mine?"

His hand cups her cheek, a thumb pressing gently beneath her eye, coaxing and wiping the tear that resided there.

"My robes are those of a saint, but we know I'm not a man of faith, I'm here because I'm a sinner and I need absolution, you yourself took part in one of biggest; and my question still remains unanswered ———Why?"

Elsa's fingers wrap around his, her body guiding her to lean into his palm; some bit of scripture about the lion laying with the lamb comes to mind as she leaves only breaths of distance between them. 

"Love. Love is why. Because he first loved us."

He closes the distance between them, a kiss that was chaste, loses its intention as pent up passion makes itself know in the way he holds her, he takes her. His grip firm his desire exposed. Here under the eyes of God he defies all convention and reclaims what he feels was lost the moment he was sent back home. He takes what is rightfully his, what he fought three years for, what he shouldn't have let go. Her.

Those fingers move to tangle in the length of his hair as his lips capture her's. She feels from deep within herself a rising heat, something long dormant until this man awakened it. Their kiss is heavy with need, desperate for more. She guides his idle hand to the laces binding her corset, caressing them into place while backward steps take them to into the dim candle light. Both hands work avidly in releasing her for the garment as his mouth ravishes the column of her neck, his lip press there, he's met with the throbbing sensation of her pulse and with a dark smirk he indulges himself in letting his teeth graze her skin. He wastes no time to strip her top bare, lying her down beside the dais and yanking, rather haphazardly, the white collar that holds him prisoner along with his robe, as their lips meet again and he feels electricity and fire sear his skin. 

Her pulse moves quickly under the pressure of his mouth and her hands fight the many buttons of his robes, seeking the warm skin underneath and when she's rewarded with that sensation she craved she smiles, letting her head tilt back and exposing the column of her neck to his lips. Without missing a beat he ravishes that perfect neck of hers, which soon turns into a trip south, his fingers toying with her nipples, rolling each one betwix his fingers and as they stiffen he offers one rather sultry suck to each. Massaging her breasts he kisses her collarbone and follows the line of her abdomen with soft kisses, his hand caresses her ribcage and he takes notice of how small her frame is and how much he likes a petite figure beneath him. She fits perfectly where she is. Her skirts removed he pauses his ministrations to unfasten his belt and slips off his trousers, he smirks, "Is it blasphemous then, to take you here and now, in the house of the Lord?" His tone conveys a dare but the way he looks at her makes clear he doesn't want to stop.

Elsa's laughter at his wordplay fills the room, a smile touching the corners of her eyes. "Do not deprive one another, except perhaps by agreement for a limited time, that you may devote yourselves to prayer; but then come together again, so that Satan may not tempt you because of your lack of self-control. First Corinthians, chapter seven, verse five."

"An invitation to sin is what I hear," he chuckles, "And sin we shall.' His lips draw further down, kissing her mound, admiring the care she takes in grooming herself, in the most intimate ways and to the smallest detail, his nostrils fill with the scent of ripe and ready woman as he buries his face between her folds, avid tongue trying to wake up the pearl that lay therein. Elsa's hips twitch held fast by his steady hands, her fingers are left to grasp desperately at the cold floor only to end up tangled in his hair again, pulling gently as her climax builds. 

"——— Hans ." Her voice is reduced to a moan of his name, her breaths coming rapidly as she's taken by the burst of heat within herself. Through lidded eyes she watches him lap her every drop of wetness, savoring her flavor, there is reverence in her eyes as she catches him by the chin and guides his wayward mouth back to her lips. 

He tastes like sacramental wine, she is so very in need of more of him.

The way his name rolls off her tongue between a plea and a moan is like a prayer to him, as he settles between her legs using his hand to guide his length, he breaks the kiss to whisper her name against her lips breathlessly as his lungs cry for air and with a skilled thrust he fulfills what he's been itching for ever since arriving in Arendelle ———They're one.

A pleasured groan dies in her throat as the rhythm picks, beads of sweat meet the floor while they consummate their passions. She clings to him and meets him thrust for thrust, her fingernails scratch his back, heels digging into him. She is in ecstasy; her soul has never known completion like this and if its sin she commits it without remorse. 

God created women from man and Elsa knows she was made for this man , the way they fit so perfectly together, she is unabashed in her declaration. 

"I am yours," she whispers.

If it's hell that awaits for him by the time he's done here, he's convinced the flame she evokes is hotter than hellfire, no amount of holy water could exorcise her from within him nor does he want to, he will happily carry the stigma she gives him after the fact.

And with his climax drawing closer he puts action to her word, branding her with teeth and heart as his. Leaving a mark where neck and shoulder meet. Whispering, "mine," hot and heavy against her mark, truth was it bounded him just as much as it bounded her and just as everything in life that's finite and human and fleeting their encounter ran to an end as an intense sea of pleasure quakes his earth. When he came to from heaven itself he saw his creation, he saw his work, he saw all he had made and it was very good.

Lovers lay intertwined in the afterglow of their union, beads of sweat trickled down the valley of her breasts and her hands fisted in the tangles of fabric they lay on until her body was finished quivering from the intensity of her climax. Slowly she drew him to her again, kissing his lips, unable to keep the smile from them. 

"Are you still going to tell me this is without purpose?" She whispers the question into his ear and closes her eyes, content to stay like this regardless of his answer.


End file.
